Here is most of the relevant published data I know of (but keep in mind the issues touched on in the previous post):

My impression:

While there are probably some real differences between populations, differences among different Caucasoid and Negroid populations, at least, appear to be greater than any overall differences between macroraces. I don't find this surprising, since if we looked at, say, height, the same would probably be true.

I'm not convinced the data support any difference between Northern Europeans and West Africans, and if differences exist, they are relatively minor.

To the extent we can say anything about intra-Caucasoid differences, there appears to be a trend of declining penis size from Northern/western Europe towards SE Europe, the Middle East, and South Asia.

Reported values for East Asia do appear to tend toward the low end among worldwide populations.

A few years ago, a "World Penis Size Map" [1] citing a website containing largely made-up numbers [2] entered widespread circulation. Despite being an obvious and inept hoax, it has continued to take in various people, including the press, some economist [3], and Richard Lynn [4]. I started writing up a post at the time, but never bothered to finish it.

Most recently, a presenter at the 2015 London Conference on Intelligence has attempted to defend this hoax data, claiming:

Lynn (2013) attempted to resolve the
controversy by obtaining data from the World
Penis Website, which listed average national
penis lengths based on various sources. Using
this, Lynn extended Rushton?s model, based
on this, to other races, and found that their
average penis sizes differed as Differential K
would predict.

This paper was ridiculed, most notably by a
psychologist blogger called Scott McGreal, who
pointed out various minor mistakes on the World
Penis Website, insisting all its contents was
suspect and not properly reviewed

As I am researching a book that extends
Rushton?s theory to 12 races, I was very
interested in Lynn?s penis data. It occurred to
me that we can test the validity of Lynn?s
national penis lengths by seeing if they
correlated with other national measures
androgen in the expected direction.

But the website does not just feature a few "minor mistakes". Most of the data is simply made up. One can't "validate" made-up numbers by attempting to correlate them with other putative markers of androgen exposure.

Dienekes points to a Biology of Genomes poster ("Assessment of Whole-Genome capture methodologies on single- and double-stranded ancient DNA libraries from Caribbean and European archaeological human remains") that includes a PCA with a few Etruscan samples (the poster text mentions two samples, but the PCA includes three).

If you imagine a line running from the American and British samples (CEU and GBR) through the Spanish (IBS) and Tuscan (TSI) samples, I expect Southern Italian samples would be out past Tuscans on this line and Middle Easterners would be beyond Southern Italians.

The Etruscan samples are shifted north and/or west relative to modern Tuscans (exactly the opposite of what we'd expect if Etruscans had predominantly Near Eastern origins). Since, in the absence of other gene flow, Italic, Celtic, and Germanic admixture in Tuscany would be expected to pull Tuscans north/west relative to Etruscans, it's clear Tuscany has been influenced by southern/eastern gene flow within the past 2,500 years (with potential sources including Roman slaves, medieval slaves, Jews, and southern Italians).

An article from multiculturalist Canadian Studies professor Joseph-André Senécal (born in Quebec and now employed at the University of Vermont) confirms for Vermont what I found for New England overall using surnames: the original Yankee element, deriving from the initial settlers, was swamped by later arrivals and composes a relatively minor fraction of the current population.

Canadians, French and English speaking, make up the largest ethnic
group in our state. 1 “Our ancestors the Canadians” raises the array of
issues, the universals and the particulars, that are germane to the definition and the importance of ethnicity in Vermont history. Who is ethnic in the Green Mountain State? Is Vermont history fundamentally
different from the main American narrative whose title could be “A
Nation of Immigrants”? Is Vermont a state of immigrants? If the
Green Mountains are replete with Canadian Catholics, Italian Socialists, and Russian Jews, why are we fascinated with “Real Vermonters”:
the Protestant “Last Yankees” who milk their historical constructs for
Vermont Life?

I once had a student who defined “member of an ethnic group” as “a
person who moved from somewhere else.” This is an excellent, if incomplete definition of who we are. We are all Vermonters and none of
us are real, first, or native, not in a way that should matter. Our understanding of Vermont’s past should not overstate claims to the status of
being first, or dwell upon the persistence or preponderance of any single group among us. What does “First” or “Real” Vermonters mean?
There is something fundamentally evil in proclaiming to be the first
when territorial occupation is the subject of history. Such pretensions,
especially those accompanied by claims to divine election, are at the
root of nationalism. There are no First Vermonters; only Abenakis who
have left their mark upon the land for thousands of years. There are no
First Vermonters; only European immigrants who planted themselves
in Western Connecticut, Western Massachusetts, and elsewhere just
long enough to become Americans before transplanting their roots into
Vermont soil. The majority of these early Vermonters stayed in the
Green Mountains no more than two or three generations before scattering to a West that unfolded to the Pacific.
2
Others—Canadians, Irish,
Italians, Swedes, Poles, Lebanese, etc.—came, early and late, in large
and small numbers.
3
For the most part, they did not identify their role
in daily life with power and ascendancy; they failed to become bankers,
railroad magnates, lumber barons, admirals of White Fleets, governors
of the state; or if they did, they had no compulsion to define their roots
or proclaim the special status of their ancestries. In short, insofar as
ethnic identity is concerned, unless they could claim a Yankee lineage
and in that way pass for white, Vermonters who made history remained
as shrouded, ethnically speaking that is, as women. Most Vermonters,
Yankee white or not, made the history of which I speak: the history of
textile workers, mostly women and children, and lumberjacks, mostly
men, of farm hands and quarry workers. It is the history of Canadians—of French Canadians who worked in the tanneries of Pownal, of
Scottish Canadians who made their way to Barre, of Irish Canadians
who toiled in the railroad repair shops of St. Albans, of English Canadians
(my litany follows the order of numerical importance),
4
and of course,
of direct immigrants from Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Italy, Poland, etc. Is
this history, the history of ethnic Vermont, important enough to merit a
major part of our attention?

The answer is yes, emphatically. If we are all ethnic, then ethnicity
lies at the heart of a definition of Vermont. But today, much if not most
of our history focuses, often with insistence, on one of the state’s ethnic
groups: the Yankee. Vermont’s construct of ethnicity is synonymous
with whiteness, a most peculiar brand of whiteness at that. Vermont’s
definition of ethnicity, the source of much racial, gender, and ethnic
prejudice, inequality, and intolerance, is closely associated with the narrative that we have built around the Yankee, the Native Vermonter that
Frank Bryan has tried to transform into a witty, taciturn, likeable “Real
Vermonter” who does not milk goats.
5
The nature of this prejudice is, in
a way, our claim to fame: Vermont’s original contribution to the American experience. We have made much of the environment, the small demographic scale and the racial and ethnic “natural selection” that has
saved us from the violence of the Watts’s of this country, the urban
blight of the Lowells or Manchesters of New England, the sterile
sprawl of the Levittowns of postwar America. George S. Weaver, in his
piece, “Vermont’s Minority,” a paper read before the 1888 meeting of
the Providence (Rhode Island) Association of the Sons of Vermont,
captured the essentials of this long-lived ideology that has turned Vermont into the cultural product we market so successfully today. Evoking the settler days, the time of Vermont’s “minority,” Weaver transforms the Green Mountains into the setting for a eugenic Arcadia: [. . .]

The following passage from Cora Cheney’s storybook tales admirably
sums up how Vermont authors have amplified Weaver’s themes:

“Grandpa, what’s a Vermonter?” asked a Yankee boy a hundred
years or more ago.
Grandpa thought a minute. “Why, son, it’s a person who chooses
to live here and take part in the community,” he said. “There’s been
a lot of talk about ‘Vermonters’ running the ‘foreigners’ out, but as I
see it, all people were foreigners here once, even the Indians.”
“I just wondered,” said the boy. “Some fellows at school talk
about it. I’ll tell them what you said.”
“Something about the Green Mountains makes the people who
live here get to be a certain way,” said the old man thoughtfully. “The
people who move here don’t change Vermont, but instead they
change to Vermonters.”
The boy took this thought back to school and became friends
with the new Irish and French-Canadian children at recess. When he
grew up, the boy married one of his French-Canadian neighbors and
together they raised a family of Green Mountain boys and girls.
7

Note that Cora Cheney was not a Yankee, but a transplant from Alabama, of Southern ancestry. Actual Yankee sentiment on immigration was a bit different:

What degree of historical truth and reality can we lend these images
of our past? Let us ask major voices. The first testimony comes from the
pen of Rowland E. Robinson. The text, taken from
Vermont: A Study of
Independence
(1892), reflects the sentiment of some of Weaver’s contemporaries as they had to grapple with new realities, changes that included the arrival of new “stocks.” Robinson, the son of a family who
shepherded blacks to Canadian freedom, cast a different eye on what
the aboveground railroad was ferrying from the North. The Sage of
Rokeby refers to newcomers who fill the place left by the Yankee emigration to the West as “foreign elements,” “swarms,” “gangs.”
8
The
verbs “maraud” and “pilfer” seem to find their way naturally into his
dramatic prose. Words such as “infestation” and “inundation” prepare
the reader for the following outburst of self-righteous contempt: “They
[French-Canadian migrant workers] were an abominable crew of vagabonds, robust, lazy men and boys, slatternly women with litters of filthy
brats, and all as detestable as they were uninteresting.”
9

Robinson takes stock of what Vermont is becoming in its “majority”:
“The character of these people is not such as to inspire the highest
hope for the future of Vermont, if they should become the most numerous of its population. The affiliation with Anglo-Americans of a race so
different in traits, in traditions, and in religion must necessarily be slow,
and may never be complete. Vermont, as may be seen, has given of her
best for the building of new commonwealths, to her own loss of such
material as had made her all that her sons, wherever found, are so
proud of,—material whose place no alien drift from northward or overseas can ever fill.”
10

Robinson’s lament elucidates the subtext of Weaver’s praise of “vigor”
and “sound European stock” and it calibrates the dark intimations
contained in such phrases as “They were not cousins who had intermarried for generations.” [. . .]

With hindsight, we can appreciate that Rowland Robinson was unduly alarmed. Vermont has domesticated the French Canadians and the
Irish Catholics. Climate, geography, small-scale industries, and poverty
have conspired to deny us our allotment of Blacks, Chinese, Eastern, or
Southern Europeans. We are as white as a virgin page, as buffered as
snow. We live in Senator Dillingham’s dream: Vermont has stayed that
mythic kingdom that Currier and Ives can come home to. Much of this
pious, infectious construct is dangerous and insidious. It blinds us to the
nature of Vermont’s ethnic past and our role, our peculiar role in the history of American inequality and prejudice.

Vermont’s uneasiness with its ethnic past, its failure to valorize the
accomplishments of French Canadians or Irish Catholics as such, its insistence on rescuing atypical blacks and other members of minorities,
all these symptoms invite us to assess our fascination with what Weaver
calls Vermont’s “minority,” and to explore the full meaning of our whiteness. There is much in the concept of whiteness as defined by contributors to
The Making and Unmaking of Whiteness
12
that applies to Vermont, its ideology and its historiography; much in this second wave of
whiteness studies to illuminate how Vermont “morphs” its ethnic past. [. . .]

Judging by the written word, historians and other intellectuals have
not explored these aspects of our past. There is little in the epistemology of Vermont that could be construed as a reflection on the nature
and complexity of our ethnic identity. Indeed, there is little but fortuitous, fragmented documentation to inform such a debate. Until such
history is written, Vermont’s knowledge of its past will remain as disingenuous as the history lesson dispensed by Republican France to its
metropolitan population as well as the teeming masses of the French
Empire. “Nos ancêtres les Gaulois,” the opening words of the state-
mandated history textbook, has made the French Republic the easy
target of revisionists worldwide.
15
Can a more meaningful icon of colonialism be found than millions of black children preparing to be
Président du Sénégal
or
Cardinal du Mali
or
Dictateur de la Côte d’Ivoire
by
reciting “Our ancestors the Gauls” as their first history lesson? The
phrase “Nos ancêtres les Gaulois” is not only a superb illustration of
colonialism, it is a rich, telling demonstration of history as a construct.
In full denial of their Germanic, Frankish roots, French historians of
the Bismarck era closed their eyes to a mountain of evidence, evidence
as ready as the name “France” or “Frankfurt” for example, and created
a preposterous caricature: Those irreducible Gaulois who defied Jules
César. Let us not laugh too loudly or snicker at these “Real French-
men.” Here in Vermont, the new history has hardly made a dent into
“Nos ancêtres les Yankees.” How about “Nos ancêtres les Canadiens,
les Québécois” to shake things up a bit? [. . .]

1 According to the 1990 Census, over 29 percent of all Vermonters report “French” or “French-
Canadian” as one of their ancestries. Statistics on ancestry from the 1990 Census will be found in
Census of Population and Housing, 1990: Summary Tape File 3A.
Major tables will be found in
1990
Census of Population: Social and Economic Characteristics: Vermont
(Washington, D.C.: Bureau of
the Census, 1993). This French/French-Canadian ancestry is the largest reported for the state and
we can safely assume that much of the reported “French” ancestry refers to a French-Canadian
immigration to Vermont. See Joseph-André Senécal, “Franco-Vermonters on the Eve of the Millen-
nium: Tales From the 1990 Census,”
Links
(Spring 1997): 8–11, 32.

The next group in importance is made up of Vermonters with an English ancestry (26 percent),
followed by people with foremothers and fathers from Ireland (17 percent). Are these Vermonters
who claim an ancestry from Great Britain (England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland) direct emigrants
from the British archipelago, or could Canada claim many of them on the basis of a long stay (one
generation or more), layovers lengthy enough to transform them into English Canadians? We are
aware of the vast French-Canadian immigration to the U.S. northeast, but how many of us know
that the English-Canadian immigration to the United States was slightly larger than the Québécois
and Acadian? The most accurate and intelligent treatment of this phenomenon will be found in
Walter Nugent,
Crossings: The Great Transatlantic Migrations, 1870–1914
(Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1992), 117–148. Unless the multigenerational mobility patterns of the Anglo,
Irish, Scotch, Scotch-Irish and Welsh Canadians who came to Vermont are vastly different than the
dispersal of French Canadians who immigrated to the Green Mountains, the percentage of contemporary Vermonters who claim a British or an Irish ancestry, but who are also English Canadians, is
very high, high enough to make Canadians (French and English Canadians combined) the largest
ethnic group in Vermont. [. . .]

4
For statistics on the English-Canadian presence in Vermont see Leon Truesdell,
Canadian Born
in the United States: An Analysis of Statistics of the Canadian Element in the Population of the United
States, 1850–1930
(New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1943).
...
Two titles, Élise Guyette,
Vermont: A Cultural Patchwork
(Peter-
borough, N.H.: Cobblestone Publishing, 1986), and Gregory Sharrow’s
Many Cultures, One People
:
A Multicultural Handbook about Vermont for Teachers, [. . .]

The textbook
highlights the history of more than fifteen ethnic groups in Vermont. The work is essential reading
not only for the documentary base it provides for the study of these groups but because it aims to
combat the historical legacies of whiteness in Vermont. The authors consciously treat the Vermont
Yankees as one ethnic group and reserve one chapter, commensurate with the length of the other
chapters, to deal with the topic. They are also conscious of their Eurocentric bias and go to great
lengths to nullify it. For example, the words “settler” and “pioneer” are avoided in the discussion of
English Vermonters. Sharrow is well-aware that such words “tend to elevate the Early English
above the other ethnic groups.”
Guyette’s Vermont: A Cultural Patchwork
affords a summary but
balanced and enlightened treatment of ethnicity in Vermont. The most important lesson of this textbook may be the ties that Guyette documents between the story of ethnic Vermont and the preponderance of manufacturing in the state. In cultivating our bucolic image we have evacuated from our
collective memory the large, essential historical role of manufacturing, mining, and lumbering in
Vermont. In the importance of manufacturing between 1830 and 1930, Vermont mirrors the rest of
New England. Only the scales vary. At no time could we have found a Manchester (New Hamp-
shire) or Lowell (Massachusetts) in Vermont, but the resources of the Green Mountain State pro-
vided ample power and workers to support the important industrial complexes of St. Johnsbury,
Bellows Falls, Bennington, and Brattleboro, to name but a few. The traces of the manufacturing
vocation of those towns and large villages still linger in the decrepit Lombard factory architecture
that one can observe in St. Albans, Winooski, or Rutland. But who remembers the vocation of Barton as the world capital of piano soundboards, the attraction of Jamaica as the site of a chair factory? Who remembers the importance of suspenders for the economic mainstay of Swanton, or
wooden bobbins for the workers of Enosburg? Vermont’s ethnic history is tied to its industrial past
and one narrative will not emerge without the other.

Vermont Eugenics: A Documentary History. This
document is: "The City Selected," "The Myth of
a Yankee Town" (excerpts)We Americans: A Study of Cleavage in An
American City,
Anderson, Elin L..
1937.
http://www.uvm.edu/~eugenics/primarydocs/orelawa000037.xml

THE MYTH OF A YANKEE TOWN

WALKING along the streets of Burlington, the visitor sees nothing in
the appearance of the citizens to remind him of the not-too-distant past
when the shawl or apron of a foreigner was a usual part of an American
street scene.

But to a Yankee farmer they are not all alike. To him Burlington has a
lot
of foreigners. As he walks along the main street, he looks in vain for a
few faces which remind him of the features of Calvin Coolidge. Going into
a store he may be greeted by a proprietor whose short and stocky build
little resembles the long, lean Yankee storekeeper of earlier days. While
waiting to be served he may listen abstractedly to an animated
conversation between the clerk and a customer only to realize suddenly
that he is listening to a foreign language. "French," he probably decides,
as he turns to give his order. He goes into another store to be waited on
by the Jewish proprietor, and comes out a little fearful lest he may have
met his match in bargaining. If he stays in town for lunch, he will have
to look hard along the main street to find a restaurant which is not
Greek, or Syrian, or Chinese, or run by some other "foreigner." It is only
when he goes into the bank that he can breathe easily, knowing that here
he is still on Yankee ground.

Burlingtonians themselves are occasionally interested in speculating on
the extent to which the city is no longer an Old American community. The
Federal Census gives them some picture of the changes: according to the
figures of 1930, 40 per cent of the population of 24,789 are either
immigrants or children of immigrants, 12 per cent being foreign-born and
28 per cent of foreign or mixed parentage. This group of immigrants and
children of immigrants is composed of several elements. The French
Canadian, with 4,895 members, is the largest; it comprises one half of all
the people of foreign stock belonging to the first and second generations,
and one fifth of all the people of the community. The next largest group
is that of English-speaking Canadians, who number some 1,208 persons. The
Irish come next with 1,102; and the Russians and Poles (most of whom are
Jews) come fourth with 741 persons. Other groups of some size are the
English, with 457 members; the Italian, 392; and the German, 309. In
addition to these, twenty-nine other nationalities are represented in
lesser numbers.

The Census, however, does not tell the whole story, for it does not
distinguish the nationality or stock of the grandchildren of immigrants.
It is therefore only by a count of the three Catholic parishes - two
French-Canadian and one Irish - that a more comprehensive picture may be
obtained of the size of the ethnic groups of the city which have been here
for more than two generations.

Such a count reveals that the French-Canadian element is much larger
than
it appears to be from the Census enumeration. By the priests' estimate
there are in St. Joseph's, the first French-Canadian parish, some 6,000
souls of French-Canadian stock; in St. Anthony's, some 1,500; and in
Cathedral, the English-speaking parish, at least 2.000. Hence, according
to this count, the people of French-Canadian stock number approximately
9,500 and comprise almost two fifths of the total population of the city.
In Cathedral, the English-speaking parish, there are also some 5,000
persons of Irish stock, and 1,000 Italians, Syrians, and persons of other
smaller groups. In this Yankee community, therefore, 15,500 persons, more
than three fifths of the population, are members of ethnic groups
identified with the Roman Catholic faith; and when to this total is added
the Jewish group, numbering 800 persons, the elements foreign to the Old
Yankee stock are found to compose 66 per cent of the population of the
city.

This does not mean that the remaining 34 per cent is a "pure" Yankee
group. Rather, it, too, is composed largely of foreign elements, though of
kindred ethnic stocks -English, English Canadians, Germans - with the Old
Americans themselves, those of the fourth generation or more in this
country, making up an extremely small part of the population of the city.
Their ranks are reinforced by the peoples of the related ethnic stocks who
are of the Protestant faith, and it is chiefly as Protestants in contrast
with Roman Catholics that these form a cohesive group.

[pp. 21-24]

Every community contains its corps of people who consider themselves
its
charter members. They have determined its nature, created its
organizations, fostered its development. In Burlington this corps consists
of Old American Protestants -- the Yankees, as they still are called.
They have always lived here, they love the place, they own it. No matter
what changes may come over the city, no matter how far it has lost its
early character, they watch over its development and growth with a certain
sense of responsibility born of the feeling of proprietorship. This
feeling is justified in a sense by the fact that most of the institutions
around which the life of the city centers today were founded by their
forefathers. These had, immediately upon their settling in 1763, set up a
town government and public schools, and, as early as 1791, the University
of Vermont. After these agencies symbolic of the principles of free
government had been established, they turned their attention to the
organization of a religious society, which was formed in 1805. Today the
descendants of these Old Americans have to a large extent retreated from
the commercial life of the city, but they still control the banks, most of
the city's manufacturing, and the University. Furthermore, they have
through their institutions, and aided by the fact that the immigrant
invasion was never great enough to threaten their position of dominance,
set an indelible stamp upon the life of the community. An internationally
known writer who returned after years abroad to make his home in the city
explained how deeply satisfying it was to find here a town where the
spirit of early American democracy still endured; where independence of
thought, appreciation of character on the basis of worth - qualities which
are fast disappearing from the American scene - still survived. Here among
the elm-arched streets he felt as if he were coming back to an early
American democratic community in which Emerson might still be living.

The small Old American group has been helped to maintain its
predominant
position by the strength of its traditional feeling of the racial
superiority of the Anglo-Saxon. As one woman, concerned about a more
successful interrelationship between the various ethnic groups of the
community, explained: "Of course you do believe that the English are the
finest people yet produced on earth. You do believe that they have the
most admirable human qualities and abilities that any people have ever
had!" Interestingly enough, the newer peoples on the whole accept the Old
Americans at their own valuation, perhaps partly because the premium
placed on conformity to standards already set has not permitted them to
value their own standards and interpretations of America. At any rate,
they always speak highly of the Old Americans as fine people with superior
ability, shrewd business men, and leaders of the community; though some
qualify their appreciation by commenting that the Old Americans tend to be
snobbish and ingrown, and that they place undue emphasis upon the forms of
their culture, which they expect all newer peoples to emulate. The
criticism, however, is always good-humoredly qualified by: "But they can't
help themselves, you know. A Yankee just is like that. You have to accept
that when dealing with him."

Traditions of family and name, of power and influence in the financial
and
civic life of the community, of race consciousness, plus a very deep
conviction that the Protestant traditions of their forefathers are
basically important to the development of free institutions in America,
set the Old Americans apart as a group distinct from other people. Within
that group there are the usual divisions of classes and cliques, of rich
and poor; but the common elements of culture and tradition give an
impression of a common unit in relation to other ethnic groups in the
community. The Old Americans are charter members; they give a kindly
welcome to newcomers, as behooves people of their position, but they
expect in return the respect that is due charter members. One who can
claim even remote blood connections with any of the group is cordially
welcomed without question; he is "one of us," while one who cannot claim
such connection is "accepted" only as he obeys the forms and the codes of
the group, because, after all, he is "not one of us."

Freed from the kind of economic pressure that is known to a great
proportion of the people in the other groups, the Old Americans are
concerned primarily with "nice living." Their interests and activities
connect them with persons outside the community more than with those
within; thus they have broad views, wide interests in the arts,
literature, and even international relations. In the community, however,
their interest is in keeping their place and their prerogatives; their
influence tends to preserve the status quo and puts a check on too rapid
an invasion from the lower ranks into their society.